Holding Up A Hero
by Nightgem
Summary: After Hawke leaves Kirkwall, she realizes that in the end, she always has to lose. A bit of Fem!Hawke/Fenris


The day Hawke left Kirkwall a chaotic disaster behind her was unmistakably an end. It was an end of lives, for the dead and the survivors left with nothing but a burned down house or a family to bury. It was an end of security, loyalty, and the belief that somehow, the world could continue living on the edge of a knife. For the Champion and her friends, it was the end of a painful journey, with no new beginning in sight. Everyone had walked away from the battle, from their lives, and followed her as she wandered farther and farther from the city. None of them had known where they were going. They hadn't even gone home to get money, or supplies. What they didn't know, however, was that Hawke had no idea where they were going either. She just knew they had to go.

In the end, they'd taken refuge in a cavern off the Wounded Coast while they decided what to do from there. No one had said a word the entire time they made the trip, not even Varric. But once they arrived, Hawke knew she couldn't continue to brood. She had to be the leader again. They'd followed her for a reason, after all.

In her usual light tone, she'd told them to "pull up a rock," while she went in search of firewood. Aveline and Fenris followed her out of the cave, while the rest of them attempted to make it habitable for the night. By the time she'd come back, a fire pit was all ready to go and most of them seemed to have fleshed out a place for themselves around it. All except Anders, who had huddled as far away from the rest of them as possible. Not that any of them minded. The only one who didn't completely loath him in that moment was Isabella, and even she thought he'd gone totally mad.

None of them slept at first. How could they? Eventually, the fire seemed to thaw their voices, making them able to speak again, though no one wanted to say anything meaningful. It was Aveline who finally spoke what all of them were thinking.

"What now Hawke?" Her voice silenced all but the crackling of the fire. Shyra looked up from the flames to stare at the red-haired companion across from her. It was a fair question.

"I don't have an answer for you," she replied honestly. She was always honest, right down to her icy-blue gaze. Honest to them, but rarely to herself. Not once during the fight, when Anders betrayed them all or the First Enchanter allowed himself to be consumed despite her support, had she shown any emotion besides determination. When the rest of them had been saying their goodbyes in the courtyard of the Circle, she had smiled at them all and acted as if she felt no fear. Now, she was doing the same, only it wasn't as encouraging as it been before.

"I want everyone to rest. Get your strength back; it was a long battle. We can discuss where to go from here in the morning," Hawke told them. Though her words said she was directionless, Fenris watched her carefully and knew the hardness of her expression suggested otherwise. No one felt saying anything else would do any good, so they all complied with the request to sleep. Merril put the fire out, and all but two were able to drift off. Once she was sure of their slumber, Hawke quietly got up and exited the cave. Fenris waited a moment, then followed her without thought.

She wandered the winded path of the Coast for a while, almost in a trance, not acknowledging Fernris' company. Then, finally and without warning, she dropped to her knees in the sand. Her shoulders sagged, her hands hung limply at her sides, and her head fell in an absolutely heartbreaking way. Fenris came up beside her. She was not crying, because Hawke never cried. Not when her sister left for the Circle, not when her mother died, and not now. But seeing her that way was almost worse than tears. She was broken.

Kneeling down, the elf brushed a piece of black hair from her face, waiting for her to speak. He had never been good at this, and yet, he was the only one Hawke would ever show this side of herself to. It always gave him feelings of guilt that she had chosen him. That he had let her. But they were beyond going back now.

"I destroyed a city, Fen. I destroyed _my_ city," she said, so quietly he barely heard it in time before it was carried off by the coastal breeze. "I was supposed to be their Champion. But I failed."

Fenris sighed. This had always been her problem, her burden. She was too kind for her line of work, or her position in life, whatever you wanted to call it. Her adventurous nature and strong personality made that spark of kind selflessness more of a liability than it ever should have been. It was why she hadn't been able to kill Anders for his betrayal. It was why she had sided with the mages, unable to tolerate their destruction because some hadn't turned to blood magic _yet_. She always did the merciful thing, even when it wasn't the best decision, because she simply cared too much.

"This was no fault of yours," the elf assured, or attempted to. "It was magic, that damned idol, that caused this. You put an end to it, and so the city still stands. They will rebuild with time."

Hawke made no reaction but to look up, but it was enough. Fenris rose to his full height and held out a hand, which she took and allowed herself to be pulled back onto her feet. When he attempted to let go of her hand however, she gripped him tighter and refused to let him pull away. Frowning, he reached out with his other hand and touched her face gently, wondering if he needed to be more concerned about her than he realized. Hawke was not a weak woman, but everyone had a point of no return. He did not want this to be hers.

"I've always loved it when you do that," she said quietly, tilting her head into his touch as a light smile played at her lips. "I'm glad you stayed at my side. I know I made you go against what you believe in, for me. You may have been proven right." The thought of the First Enchanter, taking the bodies of the dead into his own in a horrendous display of blood magic, made her hateful. She shouldn't have ever taken a side. She shouldn't have trusted him. "Thank you, Fenris."

Something about her tone made him drop his hand from her face. She released his other hand, but this time it was he who would not let her pull away. He thought back to her face in the cave, the light behind her eyes that made him wonder if she was as aimless as she claimed. Now, he was almost sure she had something in mind. Something he was going to hate.

With an unwavering stare, he dared to ask her, "Why do your words sound more like a farewell than when we thought we thought we'd die?" Hawke looked away, her honest gaze unable to hold his troubled one. "Shyra," he demanded. Just one word. One name, and suddenly she couldn't resist him anymore.

"No matter how many times I win, I always lose. Have you noticed that?" she questioned, the corners of her lips upturned in an imitation of a smile. "I escape Lothering; my brother dies. I find a priceless artifact in the Deep Roads: it drives people insane and falls into the hands of the one person who never should have had it. I become a Champion: my mother is turned into a living doll by a necromancer and dies too. I could continue, if you want. And after all that, I just… well, I'm expecting to lose again. I survived the battle, after all. Something dreadful is sure to happen any moment now. Maybe on the way back to the cave a bird will swoop down and claw my nose off."

Though her words were touched with the typical Hawke sense of humor, Fenris was still at a loss. She never spoke this way. He didn't even realize she thought that way. She was always so optimistic and confident, even naively so at times, but it was what had made her so amazing. She was hope to so many. And here was hope, telling him she had no hope herself.

"You won't lose me," he said finally. It was the only promise he could give her that wouldn't be a lie, or at least an uncertainty. Because, truthfully, she was right. Everything came at a price, and her successes were always so incredible, tragedy seemed impossible to avoid. She shook an entire city with that power. He was wondering if she would one day shake the world, and if in turn, that would be what she lost.

"I…" Hawke faltered for a moment, seeming to be wrestling something inside herself. Finally, though, she nodded in acceptance. "Alright," she stated, attempting a small smile. "I believe you."

Fenris attempted an awkward smile back, before finally releasing her hand and saying, "We should go back to the cave and get some rest. I imagine we'll have quite a lot of walking to do tomorrow."

Hawke paused. "I'm going to send them all away, Fenris," she admitted suddenly. "Aveline has a husband waiting for her in Kirkwall. Isabella has a sea that I know is already calling out her name. I know they'll try to stay with me, but it's not what they really want. I was going to send you away too, but I suppose that's rather impossible at this point." This time, her smile seemed more genuine. Fenris realized this was what she had been thinking about during her walk, and possibly even back at the cave. The elf merely nodded and they walked back to their shelter in comfortable silence.


End file.
